


Black Tie

by deerna



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Established Relationship, Gender Dysphoria, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Gabriel Reyes, M/M, Pre-Fall of Overwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 14:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12961905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerna/pseuds/deerna
Summary: “Well,” Jack said, freeing his hands and smoothing them down his arms until he could lace their fingers together. “You don’t have to wear that, if you don’t want to.”“It’s ablack tieevent, Jack. It kinda means that I need to wear a suit, if I want to get in.”“It means you can’t go with your usual ratty hoodie and a pair of sweatpants,” Jack huffed. “It doesn’t mean that you can’t wear something else.” He hesitated, suddenly shy. “Like, a gown?”





	Black Tie

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the challenge Scavengers Hunt at Landedifandom for the prompt #17:  
> 
> 
> Le vere spie non sono affatto come James Bond. È pura fantasia. [...]  
>  Ma anche se è finzione, non posso fare a meno di confrontarmi con Bond.  
>  _Real spies are nothing like James Bond. It's pure fantasy. [...]_  
>  _And even though it's fiction. I can't help but comparing myself to Bond._  
>  (Metal Gear 3)

There was nothing wrong with the suit.

It was a very nice suit. Bespoken, even. Gabe didn’t own many suits, and he definitely didn’t have them custom made, but that had been a gift from Jack, one of those crazy ideas of his. 

He fondly remembered when Jack had dragged them into the tailor shop, insisting that they were going to need nicer formal wear now that they were Commanders, for ‘official evenings and the like’. Gabe had thought it an excuse to pamper him and buy him expensive clothes, back then, but it turned out that Jack had been right; old Petras had grown to like parading them around at dinners and galas like show dogs. Like that evening, in fact.

Except the suit didn’t _look right_. The black wool and silk hugged his shoulders like the embrace of a lover, and the burgundy satin lapels complimented his dark complexion like old wine aging in fine wood. It was _perfect_ , and Gabe still didn’t like it. He had changed his dress shirt twice, tried out three different knots on his tie, and he had lost count of how many times he had buttoned and unbuttoned his jacket, pulling on the tails as if he could make them fall in a different way: nothing. The more he looked at himself, the more frustrated he grew.

“Gabe, are you ready? Angela said they’re expecting us by eight.” Jack entered the room, unaware of Gabriel’s struggle with the mirror. 

He sounded slightly distracted, and when Gabe turned around he saw that he was having a struggle of his own: he was attempting to button his wrist cuffs and failing miserably, suit jacket carelessly folded over his arm as he fought with the tiny buttons.

Even with only his dress shirt on and a crooked tie, Jack looked good enough to eat. Gabe knew that once he wore the jacket he was going to become even more delectable; dark blue with black satin lapels to match Gabe’s suit, sophisticated and attractive like a movie star.

On another night, Gabe would’ve tried to get him out of those clothes, would’ve tried to make him forget the Gala and their duties, or make them late at the very least; instead, a sharp spike of envy bloomed in his guts where arousal should’ve been. 

He squashed it, gesturing Jack to come closer. “Gimme your wrists, I’ll do it.” 

Jack sighed. “My hero. Thank you,” he answered, ridiculously relieved. 

Gabe rolled his eyes and snorted, doing a quick work of the buttons and going to fix his crooked tie. “You’re such a disaster. Who does your buttons up and ties your tie when I’m not around?”

“Angela,” Jack admitted, sheepish. Gabe laughed at him. “But it’s only nerves. You know that going to these things makes me nervous,” he muttered, unfolding his jacket and wearing it.

Gabe’s breath caught. He was _perfect_ and he looked so _good._

He glanced once again at himself in the mirror, picking at the jacket’s seams one last time, hoping to make it fall better on his hips. It didn’t particularly work. 

“Well, I guess this is the best I can do about it,” he muttered, turning his back to the mirror, refusing to look again and focusing on Jack instead. “Do you wanna drive or should I ask one of the boys to chaffeur us?”

“They’re picking us up,” Jack answered, a slight frown on his brow. “Are you all right?”

“What?” Gabe waved him off. “Yeah.” He winced at how unconvincing he sounded. “Well.”

Jack stepped closer, suddenly all up in his business, unmistakeable worry in his eyes. He reached out and smoothed out the lapels on his jacket. “Yeah?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” he snapped a bit more sharply than intended, grabbing Jack’s wrists to stop the movement, betraying his discomfort. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, a stress headache building just behind his eyes. “Just not feeling this suit, I guess.”

“Well,” Jack said, freeing his hands and smoothing them down his arms until he could lace their fingers together. “You don’t have to wear that, if you don’t want to.”

“It’s a _black tie_ event, Jack. It kinda means that I need to wear a suit, if I want to get in.” 

“It means you can’t go with your usual ratty hoodie and a pair of sweatpants,” Jack huffed. “It doesn’t mean that you can’t wear _something else_.” He hesitated, suddenly shy. “Like, a gown?”

Gabe looked at him in shock.

Jack went a shade of pink darker before going on. “I mean, I’ve seen you wearing one before, and you look- you make one good looking lady.”

It was an option. Just because the military encouraged traditional gender presentation, it didn’t mean that it outright forbid its own people to express themselves. Generally, Gabe tried to stick to his Blackwatch uniform whenever he could, and when he couldn’t, his ‘hoodie, sweatpants and beanie’ look was recognizable enough that his subordinates didn’t feel like slacking off when they saw him around the base in his off-duty clothes. On the other hand, just because it wasn’t encouraged, it didn’t mean that Gabe didn’t _own_ dresses and skirts and blouses and heels. He was maybe shier than he ought to be about them, but he never was cagey about who he was. 

Still though, he didn’t want to make it hard on Jack. 

“You wouldn’t mind?”

Jack smiled, uncomprehending. “Why should I mind?”

Gabe shrugged. “You’d be the one going to the ball with a man in a dress on his arm.” 

Jack raised an eyebrow at the blunt explanation. “As far as I know, you’re not a _man_.”

A smile tugged at Gabe’s lips. “I’m not a _woman_ , either.” 

“I did say you make one good looking _lady_ , in fact, didn’t I?” 

“A _lady_ half a foot taller than you, when I’ll be wearing my heels.”

“Good, I’ve always found tall ladies hot.” Jack brought Gabe’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles, making him burst out laughing at the cheesy gesture. 

“All that corn in Indiana went to your head, Morrison.” 

“And that’s what made you fall in love with me,” Jack replied, a cocky smile on his face, a bit of flush still creeping down his neck. 

The worrying thing was that it was completely true. Gabe was the luckiest person in the world to have something like Jack Morrison by his side; someone who didn’t care about what the mirror or people had to say about him. And if the price to pay was to suffer through his long serie of sappy lines- it was well worth it. 

Words failing him, and feelings getting the better of him, he pressed a long kiss to Jack’s mouth. “I love you,” he murmured, starting to pull the tie out of its knot, but reluctant to push Jack away. “I really should change now. Should I wear black?”

Jack smiled against his mouth. “Put on the red one.”

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
>   
> 


End file.
